


In Which Immeasurable Pain Has Been Caused

by bandersnatchbandwidth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: All hurt no comfort, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Blood and Injury, demons maybe, monsters maybe, yall he's in a LOT of pain and extremely hurt please read at viewer discretion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandersnatchbandwidth/pseuds/bandersnatchbandwidth
Summary: This is the prologue/first chapter of a fic I'm working on. I really wanted to post it. (the fic is absolutely nowhere near done but I love it so I wanted to write some and then I decided to post it. When I do eventually post the actual fic, I'll get rid of this posting)TWs: Blood, broken bones, bruises, pitch darkness, being chased by something you can't see, complete isolation





	In Which Immeasurable Pain Has Been Caused

He stumbled through the dark, torn feet screaming with pain against the rough wood, guided only by his hand on the wall. The smell of blood and tears filled his nose so much that he didn’t know if anything else existed in the moment. His nose was broken for sure, he thought distantly. Every few seconds dull pain would worm its way through his eyes all the way through his head. His eyes were open wide – or, as wide as they could with the bruises and blood. There was nothing to be seen but he still looked, searching, hoping _pleading_ to find anything at all to guide him out. His shades broke hours ago and the frames sat on his head as broken and bent as him. There was no reason to keep them, not logically, but he needed something, _anything_ to remind him he was still alive and the world still existed. Probably. Maybe. … He hoped. Each breath sent shocks of pain up his sides. He suspected his ribs were broken earlier, but he was almost certain now. The broken toes were only getting worse as he walked. There was definitely something wrong with the bones in that ankle, too, they popped and sent jolts of pain up his leg with every movement. The skin was ripped like paper where he was grabbed and every few steps he felt hot blood trail down to the ground. His knees were bruised and nearly flayed from falling, his throat still burning, his ears still ringing. The sword wound throbbed dully and he pressed his free hand against it. Thick blood welled up under his shirt and he cursed at himself internally. He should know better.

He swallowed thickly, throat tight with tears. He still couldn’t find it in him to cry. A sliver of wood cut into the hand he had trailing against the wall and he winced against it, clenching his jaw and sending white-hot sparks into his head. Both hands shook as he carefully leaned against the wall so it wouldn’t disappear again and gently examined the new wound by touch. The sliver was big enough he could pull it out. He clenched his teeth against the pain once more as he accidentally grazed a finger over the welts left from the ropes. God dammit. The raw skin stung and he had to take several deliberate breaths to let the sensation fade. Carefully, slowly, painfully, he found the splinter once more and pulled it out quickly. This time his wince split open the near-closed gash in his lip and he almost laughed. It was funny, wasn’t it? How he got wrapped up in this bullshit like the protagonist of some survival horror game. He closed his eyes, feeling tears sting the bruised skin around them. If only he could see himself now- out of the frying pan and into the fire. He’d almost like to go back to Houston at this rate. He let his head lean against the wall next to him. He could just sit down here, finish bleeding out…

The laugh sounded behind him again, further away than last time, and his eyes snapped open. Not again. He whirled around to stare through the darkness and wait, no, no no no he let go of the wall. He threw his arms out around him, stumbling, trying to feel for the wall. He didn’t care if it cut him again, didn’t care if it tore open his whole hand, he just needed something. He moved in the direction he hoped was forward, taking small steps despite the fear. He couldn’t be caught again. He probably would be. Tears started spilling down his face, fueled by desperation and pain. He wiped the tears away automatically and the smell of his own blood almost made him gag. It’s not that he wasn’t used to the smell, but there was so much. God, there was so much. The darkness constricted him. He felt like he was trying to walk straight through the open ocean. No walls, no ceiling, nothing to orient him. Probably a megalodon somewhere. Or a giant squid. The floor felt like it was grabbing his feet, specifically trying to trip him. His feet were almost numb at this point, cut and broken and bruised and absolutely not suited for walking on anymore. His breathing picked up speed as he kept limping. His head swam and the dizziness threatened to push him off his feet. He just needed to find a wall. Just needed to guide himself. He did it before, he could do it again.

The laugh came again, closer, behind and above him. More tears fell, and he tried desperately to keep his breathing level. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore. The darkness was too much. The pain too much. He had to stop. He had to keep going.

He took another shaky step forward and collided roughly with the jagged wood of the wall. He felt the needles of wood pierce his arms, knee, and foot, but he barely registered the sting. It was all the same now. The tears kept coming as he oriented himself and started feeling his way along the wall again. Maybe this was the one. Maybe he could leave after this wall, the tiny ball of hope in him whispered. Maybe it was almost done. He trailed a hand on the wall and felt it scrape his fingers. But he didn’t care. He just had to leave. Just had to leave. _Please._ He pushed his hair back and felt an old gash open up again. Blood oozed down his forehead, dripping from his eyebrow. He angled his head down, trying to keep the blood from his eye. Please let him be going forward.

He shuffled along the wall a bit further. His hands and legs shook. Tears stung his eyes once more, and he tripped on the uneven ground. He dropped to his knees, crying out in pain as the mangled skin hit the floor. He kicked his legs out from under him and leaned against the wall. He couldn’t do it. He was almost numb with pain, dizzy, tired, angry, confused, terrified… A sob tore itself from his throat and he weakly wrapped his arms around himself. The laugh again. He cried, blood and tears mixing on his face. He was going to die. Here, in the dark, alone, broken, afraid. It was close enough he could hear its footsteps now. He kept his back to it. Who cared. He could almost feel its presence, and the laugh was softer and far, far too close. One more sob. 

He closed his eyes and waited for it to kill him. And it did.

But this hasn’t happened yet.

**Author's Note:**

> the word doc for this is called "poor dave jesus christ im so sorry dude"


End file.
